Routine
by Kate-Emma
Summary: Request - Songfic - Complete - A routine stop and search goes awry when the driver shoots to kill. Meanwhile the DS who let him go free feels guilty. Max/Beth


**Disclaimer: **Still don't own 'The Bill'

Routine

  
_For Krissie_

Max/Beth

_Spend all your time waiting for that second chance  
For the break that will make it okay_

She'd just been shot.

The echo of reality finally overcoming her as she collapsed onto the pavement, pain arching from her shoulder and down her right side.

She barely registered the sounds hitting her ears. Tony's voice as he called out to her. The scream of tires as the shooter sped away. The sirens of Sierra One still wailing. It all became a fuzz. A blur. A cacophony of noise. Between it all she heard only her own breaths and moans as the overwhelming desire to lay her head down and sleep got the better of her.

Finally, on the side of the road, PC Beth Green lapsed unconscious.

_  
There's always some reason to feel not good enough  
And it's hard at the end of the day_

"DS Carter?" Neil called from the doorway of his office and Max looked up from a pile of paperwork. He was in trouble. Neil never used his rank unless he was in trouble. He pushed himself from his chair and headed for the office.

"Guv?"

Neil had returned to his desk. "Thomas Reilly. You had him in here yesterday?"

Max nodded. "He had some information on the Matheson drug business. He was helpful, most likely helped us nail Matheson."

"He's just shot PC Green."

"What?" Max gaped, barely believing what he was hearing. "He was harmless."

"Did you even read his file?" Max was silent and Neil knew he hadn't. He swivelled the computer screen to face Max. Thomas Riley was on screen. Despite the last name spelling change, he was the same man Max had known. Except this Thomas had a record. A long one. An armed robbery, three drugs charges and a medical evaluation – he didn't react well under pressure and was a compulsive liar. "You should've found this."

Max just frowned at the screen, cursing the man on it. A liar with a criminal past and a psych evaluation would not be a credible witness in court. Matheson would go free. "The drugs case is blown."

Neil stared at him like he'd grown an extra head. "Forget the drug case Max. You just let an armed man with psychological problems out on the street to shoot a colleague." Max didn't meet the DI's eye. "Find him and nail him to the wall, you got that?"

"Guv." Max made a hasty escape from the office.

_  
I need some distraction, oh beautiful release  
Memories seep from my veins_

The real world merged with her dreams, combining into some kind of weird Alice in Wonderland style fixture. She saw the ambulance arrive, the soft voice of a paramedic as she tended to Beth's wounds. Twice. She'd been shot twice. She hadn't even felt the second one. Both hits were in her shoulder. She tried to listen as intently as she could as the paramedics spoke to Tony, giving her colleague an assessment for the PC to radio back to the Inspector.

Two bullet wounds. One had passed right through, taking a big hunk of her collarbone with it. The second hadn't been so clever. It had lodged tight in the centre of her shoulder blade, threatening to shatter the bone. Of course her biggest problem now lay in blood loss. The claret was coming thick and fast. She'd need a transfusion when they reached St Hugh's. Assuming she would make it there.

As she lay on the trolley, staring at the roof of the ambulance as they bounced along, Beth thought it would now be more a case of if she got there than when. She was falling in and out quickly, one moment seeing the face of the pretty paramedic, the next the face of the man that had shot her. The echo of the gunshot bounding around her head like a playful child. And the weakness. The complete weakness and inability to do anything when she'd seen trouble loom.

The stop should've been routine. The dark blue hatch had been speeding; 70 in a 50 zone. Tony had stuck on the sirens and the driver had pulled over straightaway. As Tony went to the back of the car to run a check on the number plate, Beth went to the passenger's side window and informed the car's owner of what he'd been doing. The driver, a young man, had looked embarrassed and handed over his licence and registration without problem. Beth had glanced at them. Thomas Reilly. Then the registration. Thomas Riley. She stopped. Two different names.

She'd leant back into the window to discuss this with the driver (a name change was not illegal, but he should change his rego papers accordingly) when she'd seen him draw the gun. There had been less than a second of eye contact and realization before he'd fired.

The routine stop ended there.

_  
They may be empty and weightless, and maybe  
I'll find some peace tonight  
_

He hadn't meant it to be this way. End this badly.

The realization of what he'd done weighing on him, he slammed shut the hotel room door and sat down on the bed, dropping the gun beside him.

He'd really done it this time.

Only the day before he'd been helping the police, working for the community once again, back to what he'd always wanted to be – good. But now he'd shot a policewoman.

The police part was bad enough, but a woman?

She'd looked little more than a girl.

He dropped his head into his hands and cried.

He'd stuffed up again.

_  
So tired of the straight line, and everywhere you turn  
There's vultures and thieves at your back_

Bad situations always seemed to get the better of his resolve. They seemed to sneak up on him and wake him to the reality that his actions had consequences.

It was a reality he successfully avoided most of the time but the minute something bad happened that self-built wall came crumbling down and every emotion came down on him like a ton of bricks.

Regret. Pain. Anger. Fear.

He didn't do emotions. He'd locked them away in his own little Pandora's box, hidden the key and pretended they'd never come pre-programmed like they were in normal people. He was an exception to every human rule. He was different.

Emotions just got in your way.

Angry, fearful, hurt, regretful and disappointed people made irrational and stupid decisions that nearly always ended badly. Anger made you dangerous. Fear made you weak.

So he'd put them away. Locked them away.

It made him bulletproof. Nothing touched him unless he wanted it to.

That was how he wanted it anyway…

_  
The storm keeps on twisting, you keep on building the lies  
That you make up for all that you lack_

But he soon learnt that your inadequacies always come back to haunt you…

_  
It don't make no difference, escaping one last time  
It's easier to believe_

Surgery had been a success.

Well, actually, Beth didn't know that for certain because no one had come to see her. But the fact she was alive helped give her that impression.

Alive. In pain, but alive.

Later in the afternoon, after a long sleep, the doctor finally visited. "The surgery went well. The collarbone will repair itself in time and we had an easy transfusion. One minor thing however," Beth frowned. "We couldn't remove the second bullet, it was lodged too tight. So you will beep at airport terminals."

Despite everything, Beth actually laughed.

_  
In this sweet madness, oh this glorious sadness  
That brings me to my knees_

It hadn't been hard to find Thomas Reilly. Max had called the phone number Thomas had left with him the day before, reaching his mother. Mrs. Riley had informed them Thomas was staying at a small motel just outside Canley.

Max asked why he was no longer at home.

Mrs. Riley said it was a long story then hung up.

A quick call to the reception of the Eastway Motor Inn confirmed Thomas Reilly was there. He'd used his real name. When Max, Grace and Armed Response arrived at the motel and Reilly's room (number 7), they found him seated on his bed just crying, the handgun that had shot Beth next to him.

Grace cuffed him and he was led away without protest.

Max just glared at the gun for a minute before bagging it and following everyone from the room.

_In the arms of an angel, fly away from here  
From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear_

She awoke, shocked awake by something she didn't know. A dream that had finally got the better of her she guessed.

It was then that she realised she was no longer alone in the room.

There across the room in the squashed blue armchair, faded and uncomfortable from overuse, sat DS Carter.

Beth frowned at the sight and this seemed to rouse him. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. "Fine." Well, as fine as holes in her shoulder and serious blood loss could be.

"Okay, you just had a really sour look on your face." He stood and came to her side. "We caught the guy that shot you." She nodded again. "I just came to tell you that."

Beth narrowed her eyes. "You could've left a note or come back. You didn't have to wait."

He just shrugged. "I wanted to." Then, without any more explanation, he returned to the armchair. Beth just slid deeper under the covers with the hint of a smile.

_  
You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie  
You're in the arms of an angel; may you find some comfort here_


End file.
